Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,29
mouths shut about my business. Especially if an irritating ex-spy comes asking questions about whom I help, and why I do it.”
All Harvard could do was toss the phone back to her. If there were two things he’d learned in the CIA, they were to pick your battles and to exercise patience. The exact same skills he needed in dealing with Rachel.
The drive into London from Surrey took a little longer than expected, thanks to the rush hour traffic, and Rachel spent the time tapping away on her phone. Harvard dreaded to think what she was doing. If Rachel wanted to, she could start World War Three armed purely with an iPhone.
“I need your keycard,” he said, rolling down his window as they approached the garage under her apartment building.
Grudgingly, she handed it over and let out a little strangled sound filled with irritation when he pocketed it instead of handing it back. Ten minutes later—after Rachel had reluctantly added him to her list of approved visitors at the reception desk in the foyer—they were in her apartment. And it was just as spectacular as he’d envisioned.
Set in a part of Knightsbridge that overlooked Hyde Park, it allowed her to call Kensington Palace her neighbors. Rachel owned one of two split-level penthouses with uninterrupted views of the city, the park, and royalty.
The vast open-plan living area, with its polished dark wooden floors and thick white rugs, paled in comparison to the views framed by the floor to ceiling windows. And, even better, good sound insulation meant they couldn’t hear the endless London traffic far beneath them. It was an oasis of decadence right in the center of one of the world’s busiest cities.
She’d furnished the large living space with overstuffed sofas in shades of white and cream. But the different textures that made up the upholstery meant they didn’t seem spartan. The cream walls were decked with contemporary art; she seemed to have a thing for huge, bright abstract paintings.
By the window was a baby grand piano and an oversized armchair. A handknitted blanket in cream, of course, was thrown over it. A book lay on the seat. Rachel’s reading nook, maybe. Apart from that, no personal mementos or photos cluttered up the place. Rachel obviously liked clean lines and plenty of space.
“Have you finished psychoanalyzing me based on my home?” she asked as she strode into the room.
“Not quite. Got to see the rest of the place first before I come to any conclusions.” Harvard dropped his bag on the thick rug by the sofa and turned. He stopped dead. “A red kitchen?” Not just red. The cabinets were a lacquered red: the shade of blood. “Inviting,” he muttered, wondering if she cooked in it or just dissected things.
“You don’t need to stay here if you don’t like it.” Rachel strolled past him and into the kitchen from hell. “Wine?” She reached into the wine rack against the far wall and took out a bottle of red, then grabbed two glasses from the cabinet behind her.
“Red wine?” He looked around. “In this apartment? You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
“No. I like to live alone.”
He stifled a chuckle as he peeked into the dining area off the kitchen. It held a large wooden table, stained black, and red upholstered chairs. “Do you eat in there, or just drink blood?”
“Vampire jokes? How very ordinary.” She sashayed toward him, handed him a glass of wine, then kept on walking. “Since there appears to be no getting rid of you, I’ll show you to your room.” She flashed a dark look over her shoulder. “We aren’t sharing.”
Yeah, he hadn’t thought they would be. Sipping the wine, which wasn’t half bad, but still wasn’t beer, he followed her along the hallway from the living room.
Rachel pointed at doors as they passed. “Study, lavatory, cloakroom, laundry room.” They turned a corner. “The pool is up those stairs.” She pointed to a short staircase in the corner. “You’ll find extra bathing suits in the closet.”
“Pool?” In London? Was it an ice rink six months of the year?
“It’s indoors, heated, and on the small side. But it suffices.” She strode up the steps and opened the door, so he could look inside. And sure enough, there was a decent-sized pool with a small bar in one corner and several seats and loungers dotted around.
“I can only imagine how hard it is to have to make do.”
Her lips twitched, but instead of smiling, she sipped her wine.